She took out the frog vial and poured a fourth onto the brownie. She stood there a moment, thinking, then grabbed a gallon of milk from the fridge, a glass out of her cabinet. She poured another fourth into the glass, until the vial seemed half-empty.
There. Let's see what this does to that snotty little brat. Twenty-five dollars...and a little internal remodeling...coming right up!
She waited until she was sure the brownie had absorbed all of the liquid, then brought it and the milk into the living room. She handed both to Peter.
"Figured you'd like some milk, too. And I know you always save me for last, so don't say you have to take off, Hon." I wanna see it, kid, Mary finished, then began pulling money out of her purse, carefully, around the box.
Peter took a bite out of the brownie and made a face. Mary felt like groaning. That taste...HOW could she have forgotten? And he couldn't HELP but notice this sweet brownie tasted like masticulated rubber.
He took a sip of the milk and made a similar face...and then said something about it. "Miss Banker...I think your milk's gone bad." He said.
"Well..." Her brain worked fast, and Mary was a very smart, very sucessful, liar. She judged the age and relative innocence of this kid and decided to go out on a limb. "Maybe that's just the aftertaste of the brownie...and maybe there's something SPECIAL about the brownie."
Peter's grin became a bit wider...and his eyes immedately glanced, from Mary to the kitchen, to the door, to the telephone. Mary shook her head. Of course the kid would assume something NORMAL and illegal.
Well, aren't you about to get a suprise. Teach you to skip MY paper.
She set the money down at the table, well out of arm's leingth from Peter, then stood back and watched.
And she didn't have long to wait. Peter ate the last bite of brownie, drank the last bit of milk...then turned a little pale.
And then he turned a little...GREEN.